


Supernova Meets Obliterated Palace

by Oedaziel



Series: Sink or Swim [1]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Angst and Humor, Emotionally Constipated Erik, Emotionally Crippled Erik, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Multi, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, charles is a honey, erik is a grumpy old man trapped in a 20 yo body, everyone is a bit of an asshole, the author does not know how to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-09 11:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1980798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oedaziel/pseuds/Oedaziel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From Frankfurt to Florence, to Argentina and to the States, from Chicago to Kabul, and recently, Oxford, Erik was eliminating every member of Shaw’s crew. Erik was not merely enraged, he was wrath itself. He was the killer of the killers, the blazing fire of death, the hammer of justice --</p><p>Erik was exasperated. </p><p>Behind him, or to be precise, sinfully leaning against his back, a giddy Xavier “No please call me Charles!” was ecstatic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Peace Was Never an Option For Erik

It was not love at first sight.

 

The first time Erik met Charles, the guy was completely drunk. He had been swallowing alcohol since he had come into the bar with a cortege of students and had not stopped for a second. Not that Erik was paying much attention to him, except when he was so loud it was simply impossible to ignore the animation taking place at the other end of the room. It was not, by any stretch, anything exceptional, bars being often crowded and full of noisy drunks. Erik could have ignored him for the rest of the evening without batting an eye, had the man not come to him to talk. To _talk_. Like they were best friends since childhood. Dear _Lord_.

“Isn’t it a brilliant day, my friend?” The brown-haired man said, with a thick english accent, smiling like he fucking meant it.

“It’s been pouring all day.” Erik gruffed, not glancing at him. Most of the time, his uptight posture and closed off expression were enough to warn people off. Never let it be said that Erik Lehnsherr was an easy man to approach. He had spent years scaring people for a living, there were none better at it than he. Though the man didn’t seem to mind or even notice. He was too far gone and Erik must admit he was a bit impressed he could still stand on his two feet without wobbling. Much.

The man gaped in shock, like he expected nothing less from Erik than to agree with his stupid question. “It’s _England!_ ” he shouted, outraged, like it explained everything.

Yeah, it did.

The bartender gave the blue-eyed moron - yes, that was how Erik was calling him now - the cocktail he had ordered and Erik briefly wondered if he was really that retarded to keep servicing a man who with no doubt would end up in an alcoholic coma if no one put a halt to his self-destructive behavior.

“It’s a party!” The man next to him chuckled when it became clear Erik had no intention of continuing the nonsense chat. Crazy bastard. “Is there any other way to celebrate other than by getting inebriated?” To prove his point, he started drinking his 3dl Long Island like it was a shot. He coughed a few seconds after passing the half way mark and spluttered all over the bar, earning a glare from the bartender, which Erik returned. Dumbass. It was his fault as well, had he sent the blue-eyed moron home in time, none of this would have happened and Erik would still be peacefully nursing his well-deserved beer.

Erik looked at the blue-eyed moron and snorted at his comment. Whatever made the alcoholics feel better about drinking like the world is ending. Or beginning. As if it was all that different. Why didn’t he just go away and have fun with his ‘mates’ and left Erik alone, since he had no sense of self-preservation and go home?

“You seem down! You should join us.” The blue-eyed moron nodded, clearly agreeing with what he said. Was he that bored to think Erik would make good company? Jesus. Why couldn’t he be left to be a grumpy old man he truly was inside. If he had wanted to be with someone, he would have. Not that Erik had any friends, or coworkers per say, to go out with, but he could be nice from time to time to have some company. Mostly when it had been too long since he had gotten laid and the frustration was merely too much to bear without snapping at everyone or getting stupidly angry and blowing up his plans. He blamed on the hormones. It was, though, plainly obvious that the blue-eyed moron would not be helpful in that area, so why was he still annoying him?

“I’m sorry, my good chap, but I will not have you feeling sorry for yourself. Not tonight.” He fucking beamed at Erik, not apologetic in the least. Who the hell did he even think he was?

Erik grinned, all teeth and no lips, the same intimidating smile he used on people he was about to skin for information. “Why don’t you fuck off” he said, before returning to his cheap beer. He missed german beer more than anything else he had left behind, mainly because after a few pints his head would be blurry enough to give him a false sense of calm. And patience. Yes, he certainly needed that, since I-don’t-even-know-his-name was not going anywhere anytime soon.

“I’m Charles Xavier.” The blue-eyed moron extended his hand, waiting for Erik to shake it. “I should have introduced myself earlier, my sincere apologies. I just finished my PhD in Genetics, which is why I am celebrating tonight. Not that any proper alcoholic needs an excuse.” He winked at Erik knowingly and he could do nothing other than shake Mr. Xavier’s hand. What. The. Hell.

“Really? You’re not even of age.” Was all that Erik said. Because sure, Xavier wasn’t lying about his PhD, Erik knew how to spot a lie, but he certainly was not eighteen, no matter how hard he was trying to pretend and had succeeded, according to the pile of glasses he managed to empty.

“What? No! I’m twenty!” Xavier slurred what was supposed to be an indignant statement. Erik raised an eyebrow, having none of it. Maybe he had convinced the patrons, but he was far from being impressive to Erik. Xavier narrowed his eyes at Erik pensively, like he was trying extremely hard to look older and see right through Erik. Well, good luck pal. Even if he did somehow see inside him, he wouldn’t be able to stay long enough for the good part. Surely a teenage boy like Xavier would be scared shitless by the darkness surrounding his mind. And if he did succeed, well, Erik wasn’t above hitting the back of his head with a metal bar to make him forget his own name. Nothing personal.

Xavier laughed like he was told the best fucking joke in the entire universe, when all Erik did was stare at him bemused. Somehow, while laughing, Xavier lost his balance and had to grip the bar to keep himself from falling on the floor. Erik blinked at him before shaking his head and finish his beer in one gulp. Time to go. He grabbed his jacket and aimed for the door wordlessly.

Behind him, Xavier shouted a ‘hey’ and Erik turned in time to see the man trying and failing miserably, to catch up. Unfortunately for Xavier, the alcohol was doing its own catch up, leaving him no more elegant than a baby walking for the first time.

  
Well, PhD or no PhD, he was still a moron.


	2. Consensual Hostage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is probably a few mistakes. My bad. I'm far too excited for my betas to follow properly.  
> Updated to Mature because of the gratuitous swearing.

Erik was a merciless murderer. Honestly. For years now he had been searching and killing all the members of Shaw’s crew. Not only did he kill them cold blood, but he also, from time to time, tortured them without an ounce of regret in order to get them talking. Shaw assassinated his parents in front of his eyes when he was just a boy to make a - a point, a show to reveal Erik’s powers, to make him ‘stronger’, to make him join his fucking batshit craycray minions he called a crew, to take over the human race and destroy all the non-mutants. Sebastian Shaw was a completely insane person who needed to be stopped. His arguments didn’t even make sense. To Erik, the only people who needed to be annihilated were Shaw’s sympathisers and adepts. And he would do it himself, and he was. From Frankfurt to Florence, to Argentina and to the States, from Chicago to Kabul, and recently, Oxford, Erik was eliminating every member of Shaw’s crew. Erik was not merely enraged, he was wrath itself. He was the killer of the killers,  the blazing fire of death, the hammer of justice --

Erik was exasperated.

Behind him, or to be precise, sinfully leaning against his back, a giddy Xavier “No please call me Charles!” was ecstatic. He was bouncing like he had no control of his own body or fear to, like, die in a moto crash accident. Had Erik not been able to control metal they would probably be dead by now but you know, whatever. Even muffled by the helmet, he could hear the moron was singing something that sounded awfully close to One More Night. _Teenagers_.

“Stop rubbing your chest against my back, it’s gonna get stuck.”

“Like a tattoo!” Xavier sing-songed before melting in a fit of giggles as Erik groaned. He would be smashing his own head if he hadn’t need to watch the road. Tomorrow Xavier would wake up in shame and that would be vengeance enough for now. Why had Erik bothered to bring the guy home, he had absolutely no clue. It wasn’t like he cared about his safety, no, Erik couldn’t give two shits about it, never had, about anybody but himself, and he wasn’t hoping to get laid either, he hadn't tried since The Debacle with - what was her name? - ah, Magda. Terrible and humiliating story. And he wouldn’t take advantage of a drunk. Murder, yes. Torture, sure, if necessary. But dubious consensual intercourse? Hell no. You gotta have some rules.

“Left!” Xavier shouted, pinching Erik’s left side and not for the first time, Erik considered crashing the bike. Fortunately for Xavier, he cared too much about his baby.

It was a student residential area. Erik could tell by the terrible infrastructure of the houses and the bunch of youngsters visible by the windows, still partying. When they arrived, he wondered how the moron could recognise his house, even in a normal state. They were all fucking identical. After parking, Erik turned his head to Xavier who was still clinging to him like a koala and grinning like a loon. The German raised his eyebrows, waiting for him get the fuck off, but Xavier pressed his cheek against Erik’s shoulder and tightened his grip around Erik’s torso and what the fuck was he just being hugged from behind?

“You are a good man.” Xavier murmurred. He got out of the bike and zigzagged to the door. Xavier was still fumbling his keys when Erik snapped out of his shock. Swiftly, he joined Xavier and helped him to stay on his two feet by grabbing him with one arm. With little concentration, he unlocked the door with his mind. This was to be the last good deed for years to come.

Stepping inside, Erik noticed immediately the poor conditions Xavier lived in. Honestly, he was surprised the house had not yet been evacuated for causes of rat invasion. Xavier made a face when he catched Erik staring at the mess. “My room is clean.” he said, pointing at the stairs after making a sign to follow him. Miraculously, he was lucid enough to tap the code to unlock the door. True to his word, his room was decent.

“Do you need help with that?” Erik pointed at Xavier attempt to take off his clothes. He huffed.

“I’m not a child!” he said petulantly. “And I’m not _that_ drunk, either.”

Erik folded his arms and snorted. “I’m getting cirrhosis in my eyeballs just from watching you.”

Xavier _pouted_ , biting his lower lip. He started kicking off his shoes and taking off of his jumper at the same time, which, unsurprisingly, ended with Xavier hitting the nightstand, almost falling and getting his arms tangled in the air. Erik massaged his temples before pushing Xavier to the bed and taking off his clothes. The moron looked at him with his mouth open, eyes following Erik’s every move, dazzled. Once he was on his boxers, Erik tossed him a AC/DC t-shirt lying around and got out of the room. He returned shortly with a bucket in his hand and a bottle of water in the other, to find Xavier up in the middle of the room, ready to run.

“I thought you were _gone_!” Xavier cried miserably and all Erik could do was shake his head not to laugh at his antics. He waved the bucket and Xavier nodded. Rolling his eyes, he shooed the moron to bed, again, and deposited the bucket on the ground, next to the headboard and the bottle on the nightstand.

“I’m going now.” Erik turned away, ready to leave. He made one step before he was pinned against the mattress by a surprisingly - and frankly a bit arousing - muscular and quick Xavier.

“No.” Xavier fucking growled. Jesus.

“What do you mean, ‘no’? I’m not going to babysit you all night! I have things to do.” Yeah. Like aimlessly drive for hours and sleep under a tree before having an exhaustion coma. Have haunted nightmares. Sneer at passersby. Spite happy people. It’s a hard job to be this wretched. People don’t often give you credit for that.

“Nonsense. You will sleep here, with me. You are too tired to go anywhere.” Xavier slung an arm around his stomach and laid his head on Erik’s shoulder to keep him from moving. The bed was too small. He was pressed against the wall and all his right side was touching Xavier but apparently the guy had already claimed Erik as his new freaking snuggle pillow. Erik would have made a fit if he had not been so frigging comfortable that it didn’t even make fucking sense. Maybe it was just nice to have an actual mattress for his back for once. Or maybe it was the alcohol who buzzed his head. Whatever it was, it just felt nice and peaceful and he hadn’t noticed before, but he was suddenly worn out. Protesting sounded excruciating.

“You’re a moron.” Erik mumbled, because damn, he still had a reputation to uphold.

 

Within a few seconds, he fell asleep to the soft melody of Xavier’s snoring.


	3. Fucking Telepaths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments feed the soul.

He was trapped. He knew it, even if the light was too dim to see shapes clearly, he simply knew.

His head was hurting, ready to explode, making it impossible to focus on his surroundings. The hand he brought to his hair came back red and dripping blood. His lungs were contracting, collapsing on themselves, making a challenge out of every breath, even though he was gulping large amounts of air. He was pretty sure he was having a panic attack. He’d never had a panic attack.

Closing his eyes, Erik concentrated on finding anything metallic to get the hell away from there, but as he tried to reach, he couldn’t feel a thing. There was steel around. He could feel it under his palm when he touched stuff around him. He could feel it with his most basic sense, but he couldn’t grab it with his mind, there was no soothing murmur of the material on the back of his head.

Breathing got more difficult. There was a blur before he felt his ass touch the ground and Erik was pretty sure he was crumpled in a fetal position against the wall. It became all too clear that he was crying, silently, his head nested between his arms. Again, he tried to move metal around him, but it was useless. His heart was pounding. His fingers flexed and unflexed repeatedly. On the back of his mind, there was a glee. Terrifying, horrific glee that he could not describe as his own.

Erik followed the thread of emotions as they became more and more present. It was an indescribable desire to hurt. There was satisfaction there as well. A sense of calm brought by chaos. Bliss born of victory. But deeper, there was only pain. Wounds of loneliness and rejection. And hatred toward a face Erik had come to know.

 

Blinking rapidly, Erik focused on breathing. It was gratifying to feel his lungs actually work. The dark room disappeared and he was now in a cramped bedroom. His forehead was damp, but this time when he swiped, it was only shiny sweat. Erik jolted when he heard a groan suspiciously close to him. When he turned his head to face the danger, he was rewarded by intense blue eyes peering at him. Erik scowled.

“Good morning to you too.” Xavier smiled lazily at him. “Have you slept well?”

Yeah, what a blast. Weird dreams. Always so fun.

Xavier frowned and got to his elbows, mouth pressed into a thin line. “I’m sorry, good chap. I’m afraid that was my fault.”

Wait, what? Erik didn’t even say a thing. Why the hell was he apologising for? “You’re a real piece of work when you’re drunk.” Erik said cautiously, to see if that’s what he meant.

“That’s not what I meant.” Xavier answered, tilting his head. “I was talking about the dream. Well, nightmare is more appropriate in this case.” He ran his hand through his face and sighed.

Erik’s brows shot up. So the dude was in his head all the time? What the everloving fuck. He knew he shouldn’t have underestimated Xavier’s uncanny understanding of unsaid words, but fuck if he could have guessed that one. Telepaths were supposed to be rare, and Erik already knew Emma. It wasn’t an experience he was particularly adamant to repeat. Fuck those brainsuckers. Nasty beings, always sniffing around. A man should mind his own business, if you ask Erik. He wasn’t fond in sharing, let alone someone else in.

“I wasn’t trying to get in your head.” the bastard _laughed_. “I couldn’t even if I tried. Most of your thoughts are either in German or Polish.” he said pensively. Because that’s what needed clearing up here, obviously. “When I’m asleep, though, I can’t control my power. So, sometimes, my mind drifts and connects to others. Ergo, your nightmare. Which in this case is my nightmare. But in your head.”F

Erik squinted at him and Xavier shot his hands up in the air in surrender. Whatever. It wasn’t like he could blame the moron for his power. It wasn’t as if he had chosen it. The poor fuck probably would prefer to stay the hell away from some people if he could. Couldn’t be fun to hear deranged people every time he walked outside. Not that Erik was pitying him, just being honest.

“So, breakfast?” Xavier asked, because that’s definitely the natural continuation of the conversation. He didn’t wait for an answer, merely went to the kitchen and started poaching eggs. Even though he didn’t know how to be drunk, he seemed to know how to deal with the aftermath. What a relief. Erik nodded, although Xavier had his back turned on him. Food was the least he owed him. Plus it was free. What more could he ask.

Erik was browsing Xavier’s books when he heard a cough behind him. A smug Xavier was leaning against the door with a plate of poached eggs in his hands. A moron like him had no right to look so self-satisfied because Erik was returning the favour of being a shit and putting his fingers where they didn’t belong. Long, pale fingers Erik would rather not think about. Ever. It was not like there was interesting stuff anyway. Just biology books whose title could cover a section of Glamour.

Astonishingly, Xavier managed an entire conversation without ever mentioning his work. He talked like he was any other guy, which was rather nice. He found himself oddly liking the moron. Charles. Once they finished eating, Charles gave him his number and said they should do something together that day. Erik agreed, which turned the ever present smile into a dashing grin. Xavier ran to the shower to ready himself to leave.

 

When he came out, Erik was gone.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this time, everything was beta-d. I'm not ashamed to admit I got my ass kicked like it was never kicked before, and I must tell you that I wrote a 23 pages long paper in English with a professor who hated my guts and another one who is the most terrifying being walking on earth. It's nothing compared to being corrected by Kate. I am very grateful, don't misunderstand. But I'm mainly scared and scarred so from now on, everything will have to go through her first. 
> 
> Basically, it means chapters will be posted less often.


	4. The Usual Suspect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting two chapters today because I was too much of a slog yesterday.

Erik was in deep shit. The deepest shit. The kind of shit that sends you one way to fucking prison with your balls cuffed.

 

Currently, he was being held in a facility in New York, but that wouldn’t last long. Soon enough, he would be transferred to a high security prison in the middle of nowhere where people like him could be contained without a trial. Because you know, humans love mutants so much that they want to keep them close and have an eye on them every fucking hour of every fucking day. The Guantanamo for mutants, known as Area 52, was his next destination. God knows what they did there. A little bird told him it wasn’t anything near pleasant. Nothing was when it came to be a lab rat.

“I need to make a phone call.” Erik shouted, not for the first time that day. Or that hour, for that matter. The answer was the same, a resounding no. Growling, he slammed his body against the door. “I still have fucking rights. I want a goddam damn phone call. One fucking phone call.”

The jailer came to him slowly and measured him up, lips pursed. He narrowed his eyes at Erik and Erik showed his teeth, as menacing as he could be behind plastic bars, pushing his forehead between the spaces. The man huffed and walked away, not even bothering with an answer. That’s how considerate they were. Stupid humans. They wouldn’t even listen to him. It was not his fucking fault.

“Leave it. I tried, they don’t care. We aren’t even human to them.” Erik’s jailmate on the other side of the wall gruffed. “Fucking fucks.” he yelled at the guards. Erik chuckled. In the few hours he had gotten to know Alex, he must admit they had hit it off. They were pretty much alike, temper and all, if you ignore the part where Alex curses like a sailor. That was fucking rude.

Hours passed without anything to kill the boredom. Erik would have talked to Alex, but then he would be accused of being sociable. So their conversations boiled down to humms from Erik at whatever the dude felt like sharing. The fact that it was one-sided didn’t seem to bother him in the least. Some people merely needed to be listened to and it wasn’t like Erik had anything better to do at the moment. So he learnt that Alex had a brother, Scott, that he hadn’t heard from since he was sixteen and decided to run away from his psychotic foster family. He missed him more than he cared to admit, even to himself, because Scott was the main center of the entire monologue, when it was not about how much he wanted to scratch his groin but was unable to relieve himself thanks to the straightjacket that kept him in place. A fellow mutant, not that Erik expected anything less at this stage and knowing where they were headed. It felt oddly comforting not to be alone in this case. Not that he needed anyone. It was just, you know, heartening.

“You have one minute.” A voice that came from dangerously close snapped Erik out of his reverie. At first, he was confused, but quickly came back to his senses when he saw a phone penetrating his cell between the bars. Without needing to be told twice, he grabbed the phone like his life depended on it. Because, let’s be honest, at this point, it probably did.

After a few seconds of hesitation, Erik dialed the first number that came to mind. He was pacing in circles restlessly inside the cubicle, when finally someone picked up at the third ring.

“Hullo.” A cheerful voice greeted. What the actual fuck. It was too early to sound happy. Not that Erik knew what time it was, thanks to the never ending prison lights, but it was too damn _early_.

“Charles, listen, I don’t have much time. I’m in New York’s prison for mutants and I’m going to get transferred any second, then I will be out of reach for good. I need you to come and pick me up as fast as you can.” After a beat. “I’ll owe you.” he added, because Xavier had no reason to help him except that he was a moron. With a PhD. Rare creatures.

“I didn’t hear the magic word.” Xavier tutted and Erik groaned. Fucking lil shithead getting coy at the worst moment ever. It took all his willpower not to end the phone call right there. Charles was his sole way out of this shithole and Xavier fucking knew it, the bastard.

“Please.” Erik gritted, gripping the phone in his hand with such force it was a miracle it hadn’t been crushed yet.

“I’ll be there soon.” Xavier hung up and Erik could swear he heard the smile in his voice. Erik gave back the phone before planting his fist on the wall.

Apparently, _soon_ had another meaning in England, because _soon_ was five fucking hours later.

Charles arrived gleefully, in a fucking oxford blue morning suit. He was grinning and waving at the guards _who were waving at him back_. Had Erik not practised extreme self control throughout his life, usually out of necessity, he would have lost his mind and banged the wall. Again.

Once in front of his cell, Charles fucking grinned at him. “Long time no see, my friend.”

Was that an accusation Erik was hearing? Surely, he wouldn’t be mad at him for leaving without a word. That was two years ago. Erik was a new man now. He’d bought a dark blue turtleneck to add to his closet. He was an utterly different person. Fleetly, Erik approached the door to face Charles and put on his most angelic features.

“Are you innocent?” Charles asked, face showing such a genuine wonder that Erik had to bite back his snarl.

“Yes.” He answered instantly. _Mostly_.

Charles chuckled and made a gesture to open the doors. As he began to walk out, Erik landed a hand on his arm to stop him. He pointed at Alex’s cell in a silent plea. Charles frowned but nodded, placing two fingers against his temple. Two guards came to set the stunned Summers free.

Outside, Alex let out a stream of curses, mainly wondering how the hell they got away, but Xavier ignored him in favour to stare at Erik. The German braced himself, ready for whatever the hell it was Charles wanted from him. “You’re in my custody until your hearing. Could be in a month, could be more.”

There was no way Erik could keep himself from groaning at this point. It was better than going to jail for the rest of his life or whatever it was they were planning for him, but fuck, it was a trade of cells, even for a single month. No real freedom. Erik exhaled calmly. He suspected Charles could have prevented it. If he was powerful enough to get him out, he was powerful enough to do it without any inconveniences. This was payback.

  
Charles grinned mischievously.


	5. Dramamine

When Charles announced they would be all staying in his family home in Westchester, Erik had no idea he meant the fucking Buckingham Palace of the state of New York. To be honest, he had to blink a few times to be sure it wasn’t a trick on Charles’ part. Some kind of weird british humour - god knows they try. At least, he told himself, he kept some of his composure when he saw it, unlike the bewildered Summers who couldn’t stop gaping. Seriously, at this point it was becoming ridiculous. So what, obnoxious assholes who wore morning suits for fun and ruined lives to teach a lesson still lived in castles. Deal with it.

“It’s been in my family for generations.” Charles explained when they arrived. Erik shook his head. What was he now, ashamed of his money? Or of being a grade-A jackass? Probably neither so what the hell. Erik swore to god he would fucking leave this place if Charles started a historic tour.

Alex let out a strangled noise. “The only thing running in my family is a history of heart attacks.”

“Touching.” Erik deadpanned before turning his heels and walking in the direction of the mansion. The sooner he found a corner to hibernate, the better. Yes, hibernate. He wasn’t brooding, no matter what Charles said. The moron probably wouldn’t know how to tell the difference between the two. If it wasn’t for the nightmare Charles had unconsciously shared with Erik the night they met, the german would have thought Charles lived a grossly happy life in these walls.

The front door was opened by a pretty blond girl before they had the time to knock. She smiled brightly at Charles who responded with a smile of his own. Erik contained his growl. He didn’t sign up to hold the candle for the next month. At least he had Alex, who had won some kind of respect from Erik. The kid knew when to shut up. Sometimes.

The girl looked curiously at them, waiting for some explanation. Whatever it was, Charles answered telepathically, because she was nodding in his direction. And who was she anyway? His girlfriend? A parasite looking for money? Would Erik be expected to conduct small talk with her?

“Hank is in the laboratory. Again. He says Cerebro should be functional soon, but he has a problem and needs your help. God, he hasn’t stopped bitching about it for the last three hours.” The girl gestured for them to get inside. “Angel is out getting some stuff for him, hopefully tranquilisers.”

Hank? Angel? For fuck’s sake, how many people lived there? And what the fuck is a Cerebro?

“Cerebro is a machine created by Hank to enhance my telepathy.” Charles said, and fuck, Erik would never get used to his power. There was a reason he rarely talked. The moron was ruining his I-don’t-give-a-shit reputation.

Sighing, Erik followed his host inside. Since he couldn’t pretend not to care while Charles was around, he wanted at least have a look at the damn machine. It seemed interesting after all.

 _You don’t have to hide yourself in here, Erik._ A voice said in his head and Erik jerked because that voice did not belong to him. Erik glared daggers at Charles, pointing a finger at him and scowled. “Don’t do that.” he said, leaving the _without warning me first_ silent. He trusted Charles was still poking his head to hear it. By the thin amusement he saw in the corner of the other man’s eyes and in his mind, Charles received the message. Next to him, the girl sniffed. There was no need to read minds to know she was uncomfortable with Charles’ gift. He felt Charles’ sadness-acceptance as if it was his own feelings. Erik shot up his eyebrows at him.

“Tell Hank I’ll be there shortly. First I’m going to show our guests to their rooms.” Charles said to the girl. Wordlessly, she turned on her heel and disappeared down a corridor. Alex and Erik followed Charles to the stairs. Alex’s room was one of the first, and they left him there after agreeing on a time for dinner. Erik’s was further inside the mansion. It was a simple bedroom with a double bed and an adjacent bathroom, but otherwise lacking the display of wealth the rest of the estate demonstrated. He was glad for the humbleness of it.

 _My room is on the other side, should you need anything during your stay._ Charles’ mind supplied. Erik nodded once and Charles left, closing the door behind him. Erik didn’t unpack his stuff, there was no use. Once his curiosity was satisfied, he would leave. He was no man to stay inside four walls, even though the walls were bigger than a football stadium.

Erik grabbed the least pretentious chair and sat by the window and waited for time to pass before tracking down the dining room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness. The next couple of chapters will be posted shortly, since they are already ready!  
> Hopefully, I will have time to write some more by the end of the week.


	6. Sucker Row

It was impressive how unimpressive Hank McCoy looked.

According to Charles, Hank was a genius on top of being a mutant. He had approached Charles after a lecture he gave in Harvard about genetic mutations, fascinated by Charles’ theory. Beforehand, he had been accosted by the CIA and offered a job in their facilities. It was Charles’ warning against the government that stopped him from following that path. Instead, Charles recruited him - _landed a friendly hand,_ Charles protested - to work for him - _with him_ \- in Westchester. Hank shone in the field, providing the British man with inputs and a great knowledge in engineering he lacked. He was the reason why Cerebro was even in the progress of being invented.

For all he was worth, the kid could disappear into a wall without anyone noticing. He wore big glasses and an old-fashioned haircut, coupled with a white coat. There would be no denying he looked like a scientist if he wasn’t utterly invisible. He barely talked when he was around, except to Charles and when he did, it was about scientific gibberish that only they cared about. The kid liked to stay in the labs for as long as he could, away from any disturbance. Unfortunately for him, in this mansion, disturbance came to you. Erik learnt that the very second day.

Indeed, Erik had been woken up the second day by a loud knock on his door. Instead of Charles, like Erik first thought, it had been Alex on the other side at the ungodly hour of 6 A.M. Not that Erik was sleeping, but it was still a goddamn ungodly hour. Having nothing better to do, though, he accepted Alex’s offer to go out for a run, just to shut him up.

It was relaxing to go back to a routine, after being thrown in an unknown place with strangers he knew nothing about. He had spent the major part of the evening trying to categorise every habitant. For now, no imminent threats were to be found. He even had felt secure enough to sleep a few hours, but none of them were very restful. So, it was elating to run again. There was no room to overthink, just to be carried away, step by step, by the lulling beat of his heart.

That was until they were interrupted by a grinning Xavier. He was watching them from the door he came from with a sportsuit, unmoving. Quickly, Erik understood he was waiting for permission to join them, at which he grunted his agreement. In a few seconds, he was up to speed alongside Alex. The two of them engaged in small talk, as far as small talk could be carried out while running. After five laps around the mansion, Erik heard Charles say “It’s wonderful to finally have people who can keep up with me.” and then moan about Raven and Angel’s lack of motivation for jogging and Hank’s disinterest in outside activities.

“Dude, I won _medals_ in running contexts.” Alex bragged, full of pride.

“Congratulations, you achieved something of no benefit to anyone, ever.” Erik said. Alex rolled his eyes so hard he would have seen his brains if he had any.

Charles shot him a look and turned to Alex. “Don’t listen to him, it’s important to do things you are proud of. It’s never a waste of time.”

Of course Charles would think that. The man’s favourite hobby was to get drunk.

They finished the run silently, at least to Erik who decided to tune them both out, and rush to the shower. He decided to stay in it longer than he usually did, savouring the pressure of the spray. It was rare to find good ones in motel rooms and he hardly could afford to pay for a hotel. So he enjoyed the little perks that the mansion had to offer. He knew that he would have to pay in some way his stay, even though he had been forced to take it. People’s generosity never went that far.

When he entered the kitchen to fetch breakfast, he was faced with a hispanic girl who seemed as taken aback by his presence as he was by hers. They squinted at each other until Charles came into the room, oblivious to the tension.

“Oh, Erik, you met Angel. Angel, this is Erik, the criminal I was talking to you about.”

Erik snorted, affronted. Not by the fact that he was being called a criminal, which he was, there was no denying that, but that Charles had been talking about him behind his back. That was petty.

“You the one who’s been killing the mutant hunters?” Angel asked in Spanish.

“Yes, I am.” Erik answered, unfazed by her choice of language, to which she responded “Good.” with a smile and left the kitchen with a tower of toast on a plate.

Charles eyed the door and then Erik, shaking his head and muttering a flow of no. “You both are already difficult to read as it is. I assure you, there is no need to impose another language barrier.”

Erik smirked at him triumphally. “You didn’t look like you had trouble reading my mind yesterday. Can’t let a PhD owner go unchallenged.”

Charles pretended to be mortified before opening the cupboard and grabbing two cups. Erik felt the mental equivalent of a tickle, which he guessed was Charles’ way to ask to engage in a telepathic conversation. _Tea?_ He asked as soon as Erik granted his permission. At that, Erik let a growl and a mental wave of disgust. Erik could never understand the obsession brits have with the beverage. It was just bitter hot water.

“Hard man to please, I see.” Charles said out loud. Shrugging, Erik let Charles know the list of acceptable drinks in his book. Silently, Charles made coffee for him and a cup of earl grey for himself. He extended the cup to Erik and nodded towards the doors. Erik merely followed him, intrigued by where Charles intended to go with him. The wing they were walking in was not one he had been shown the previous day.

_I’m taking you to Cerebro. Charles thought. I got the feeling yesterday that you wanted to see it._

The hell he wanted. A machine capable of enhancing mutant’s abilities? That was something worth seeing, that’s for sure. Humans would be petrified by the idea, but Erik only felt glee. To know that there were people out there proud of their power and willing to explore it and stretch it with technology was thrilling. Too often mutants were apologetic of what nature gave them to even acknowledge that part of themselves. It was a shame, to suppress such an incredible part of their own being. Fighting against it was as ridiculous as it was tragic. One must embrace oneself wholly in order to find the true balance that leads to happiness. Even though Erik wasn’t looking for the last part, he believed shelving their potential was a terrible waste. If only more mutants disclosed their power and fought against their oppressors, they could rise as one and stop being afraid of being who they truly were. But Erik would fight all the same, even without them. He didn't need them anyway. He never had.

_You are not alone, Erik._

Erik didn't bother commenting on that. The moron would not know what he was talking about - how could he?


	7. Slow Animals

Neither of them had time to add anything else. The lift they got in opened to a long, metallic corridor. The doors were painted with an X and if Erik needed proof that Charles was a smug egocentric bastard, he got everything he needed there. Maybe they had more in common than he first thought.

Every ounce of the previous conversation was forgotten as soon as he entered the spherical room. Panels were missing and the structure wasn’t stable yet, but all in all, it was promising.

“What are you going to do with it?” Erik asked. He wasn’t fool enough not to realise what such machinery would be capable of. With a mutation as powerful as telepathy, there was no saying what Charles would be able to do large scale.

“I don’t know yet. We have to finish it first to know its full capacity.” Charles said with wonder. He, too, was excited about the endless possibilities Cerebro would open. There was a table in the corner with blue prints of Cerebro. Without asking, Erik picked them up and started to go through them. The engineering was groundbreaking. Nothing of the kind had ever been made before. Even though he had never been to university, Erik knew a lot about mechanics and robotics and understood their mechanisms better than anyone . He could literally feel a well-oiled machine working and knew when and where something was off. This - this was unprecedented.

 _The core is the problem._ Erik thought to Charles. He opened a memory-sense and filled it with ideas and suggestions to solve it. Charles hummed a few feet away from him. He didn’t need to perch on Erik’s shoulder to see was talking about since he was already in his brain. For once, Erik didn’t mind the fact that he wasn’t alone in his head. It was so much easier to transmit thoughts without having to word them. He didn’t have to explain what he meant, he just had to show him and Charles could pick up the reasoning behind them. That saved time.

 _Thank you. I shall make the arrangements with Hank._ Charles sent a wave of genuine gratefulness that unsettled Erik. He wasn’t used to be the end of that kind of feelings, so he did what he did best. He huffed and walked out.

He spent the rest of the morning wandering in the estate, taking notes on where some jobs could be done. And boy, there were so many. The girl - Raven she said - explained that the mansion had been abandoned for the better part of the last decade, and before that, the Xavier family had concentrated on the west wing, the one they were currently inhabiting. The owner at the time, Charles’ mother, hadn’t paid attention to the state of the mansion and Charles’ stepfather hadn’t been present most of the time. There was more to the story, Erik knew, but he bit his tongue and said nothing more on the subject. He didn’t care, after all.

Erik didn’t see Charles until late that evening. He was in what appeared to be a study from the mid XXth century when Charles came in, perplexed to see someone there. Stupidly, Erik felt as if he was caught snooping around, when all he did was read the covers of books in the shelve. Well, it was a bit like snooping, Erik could see that, but the feeling wasn’t behind it, so it didn’t count.

“Do you play chess?” Charles asked out of the blue. “I have a set, if you were interested in that kind of game.” he blurted out.

Erik blinked a few times before nodding. Charles smiled brightly and disappeared behind the bar at the end of the room. He came back with two glasses and a dusty bottle of scotch. Forty years old, Erik read. For once he was offered alcohol of good quality, so he wasn’t about to refuse. It was strong, but jesus, it was tasty.

“I haven’t played in a while, so try to be nice.” Charles said.

That wasn’t a promise Erik was willing to make. All his life, he had be taught to be ruthless and merciless. Even for the tiniest things, he didn’t show pity for anyone. Slaughter your adversary before he slaughters you, that was his motto. If they weren’t actively putting you down, it was just because they weren’t able to do it yet, or were using you until you were of no more use. Though, he would at least pretend to make the effort. It wasn’t often that he took the time to procrastinate, though he had the sense that in this house, he wouldn’t be given much of a choice. He would enjoy it for the time being.

As it turned out, Erik hadn’t even needed to try. The few clumsy mistakes Charles made at first were compensated later with masterful tactics Erik had never seen before. He found in Charles a competent opponent worthy of his time. Even if their styles were completely different, - Charles tried to save as much as he could while Erik never spared his pawns and knights and left them to die for the bigger picture - they fell into a harmonious symphony of pieces being moved, clicks of glasses being refilled and occasional impressed sounds when one of them had spectacularly well played.

They played three games that night. Each time they reset, Charles used new moves. Though, Erik was nothing but inventive when it came to dodging attacks. Most of the time, he played the offensive, since it was the best way to kill the opponent, but with Charles’ exceptional skill when it came to defense left him with no other choice but to sacrifice his queen in order to win the last game. Xavier made a face at that, but did not comment on it.

By the time the clock announced midnight, both of them had forgotten about chess and were casually debating about a new political scandal that broke a few days previously. America was full of it, so the conversation had been going on for a while. Startled by the time, Charles excused himself to bed.

They parted in front of their opposite doors, and Erik spent yet another couple of hours in restless sleep.


	8. Road To Nowhere

On the early hours of the third day of his captivity in the mansion, Erik found an indoor pool at the end of the east wing. Like the rest of the estate, the pool was as exorbitantly obnoxious as they came. To be quite frank, Erik was surprised it was not shaped in a form of a fucking dollar. Since nobody was around, Erik stripped unceremoniously and tossed his clothes in the corner, yes, underwear with it. It wasn’t like this was a summer camp, he hadn’t packed a stupid swimming suit so if anyone had anything to say about sanitary crap, they could just as well fuck off.

He entered the pool and begun to swim. There was something soothing in the way the water surrounded him, predatory, ready to swallow him whole as soon as he wouldn’t be able to fight against it. Erik wasn’t unfamiliar with the sensation of drowning - he had experienced it often in the short time he spent with Shaw. It had been one of his favourite ways to torture Erik. Erik remembered with perfect clarity the hours he wasted in a prison cell with nothing to do but cry - he was barely a teen at the time, so fuck you - and beg ridiculously to be released. Shaw obviously would have none of it. He was resolved to make Erik’s life miserable until he mastered his gift. Killing his parents in front of him permitted a demonstration of his power, but soon after he destroyed everything around him, an emptiness drowned him into an apathy that Shaw couldn’t control. So he tried to scare Erik again and succeeded with his hands up. Waterboarding hadn’t been his only tactic, of course, but it had been one of which Erik remembered the best because in the years following his escape, Erik had been terrified of water. Everything else, he could handle. It was rare to be confronted with the other means Shaw used to torment him, but water - it was everywhere. Even a fucking shower petrified him. For at least a month he had been unable to wash himself. It was undignified.

So Erik did what anyone with half a brain would do to overcome his phobia. He picked a small boat and rowed to the middle of the lake and jumped off it. There, he had no choice but to calm himself enough to gain his senses and swim or die trying. And he almost drowned, alright. He was so aghast he started to have a panic attack in the water, drinking in too much, pressure in his lungs so hard he would have fainted. Amidst the chaos, his survival instincts kicked in and he senselessly swam to the boat and came back to the shore still breathing. After that, showers didn’t become easy per say, it was still horrifying as hell and he fucking hated it with all his being, but they were manageable. As years went by, he was able to stitch himself back together enough to face a pool and get in it willingly. But he never came to enjoy it nearly as much as he had when he was a child and went swimming with his parents or his classmates. It was yet another thing Shaw took from him.

When Erik swam, it was with a single focus, to survive. He was hyper aware of his surroundings, ready for blood, ready to fight for his life with all he had. He heard before he saw a movement in the shadows. Carefully, he dipped to the corner of the pool nearest to the figure and observed, making himself invisible to whoever had the misfortunate idea to surprise him. Erik was tense, muscles prepared to assault his adversary, mind concentrating on the pipe he was controlling silently ready to charge. What Erik could not have predicted was a sob coming from the shadows followed by a mumble that sounded horribly a lot like like ‘stupid Hank’.

What the fuck?

“Raven?” Erik asked, suspiciously. As he said it, the shape got out of the shadows and was illuminated by the shine of the moon coming through the window longing the pool, outlining its blue form and reptile yellow eyes. Erik was so flabbergasted he was speechless. In front of him, the creature shimmered and transformed into the blonde girl he came to know as Raven and back to her blue form. Erik couldn’t help the beautiful that came out of his mouth, because what else could he say? She was magnificent, her power unbelievable and yet undeniably real.

Raven laughed humorlessly. “Hardly.” she said self-deprecatingly. Erik frowned, confused at first,  before he remembered what he heard not even a minute ago and something close to anger burnt at the pit of his stomach.

“Come here.” Erik said calmly instead of yelling at her for being stupid enough to listen to a idiotic teenager who knew nothing about beauty and talked too much even when he shut up. She did as told, even though she was reticent. She came to an halt when she was close enough to see him distinctly as he could see her. She had scales all over her body and red hair. He noticed her cheekbones were a shade darker than the rest of her body. She coughed and turn her head away from his scrutiny, averting his gaze. “Erik, are you naked?” she asked, her voice pinched. Erik didn’t bother to answer her asinine question. What else would he be? Grilling sausages in the pool?

Instead, he walked toward her, making waves in the otherwise placid water and pulled her face in his direction with two fingers on her cheek, leaving her with no choice but to look right into his eyes as he said “Perfect.”

They stared at each other like statues, unblinking, for an entire minute, letting what he said sink in. Erik wanted her to see the truth in his statement, that she shouldn’t be ashamed of her true colours, that all mutants were flawless in the way they were born, it was the others were foolish not see it. Raven’s mouth opened slightly, agast, and Erik turned his back on her to leave the pool. The sun would rise soon and he had a jog planned with Charles to which he had no desire to arrive late.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep in mind that Erik's way of dealing with his phobia is obviously not the way around it.


	9. English Beefcake

By the 12th afternoon, Charles asked Erik in his study to discuss important matters. It wasn’t unusual now for them to spend some quality time together during the day as well as every evening. Erik had come to appreciate the quiet presence of Charles, the opposite of the very loud teenagers he shared a roof with. Alex continued to be by his side every day and for hours, babbling nonsense Erik tuned out most of the time and Raven came to train with him in her blue form more often than not. But Charles, quiet Charles, never bothered him for long periods of time, but still made a point to see him every four hours or so, even though they were rarely alone. The jogs in the morning became an habit shared between the three restless men as well as having lunch with everyone else in the main diningroom. It was an unspoken rule that they had to meet and have activities together at least once a day with everyone in the household.

However, when Erik entered the study where Charles asked to meet, there was no one there except for the man himself. He was seated behind his desk with a book lying on his thigh and a hand supporting his face, looking as academic as humanly possible.

“Ah, Erik.” The man said, without looking up. “Please have a seat, I’m almost finished.”

Wordlessly, Erik took the armchair he came to think of as his in front of the chessboard he played daily at with Charles. He heard Charles scribble something on a paper, while he waited patiently, toying with the Knight, mind wandering to tactics used with the piece. It was, afterall, the whole point of playing with Charles every night.

Charles sat in the opposite chair of Erik, with a tumbler half full of amber liquid in his hand. “I’m afraid I must go away for a few days.” He said, gulping his drink in one go. He placed the glass on the table and folded his hands, waiting for a reply. When none came, because Erik had nothing to say at that - it wasn’t his place to ask Charles whereabouts - Charles sighed. “Would you mind terribly accompanying me? I believe you would like to be involved in the proceedings, as it is in your line of work. Usually I take Raven with me, but when I asked her earlier, she” He frowned, as if he still had trouble believing what he was about to say “declined immediately. She wasn’t even interested in hearing what it was about this time.” Charles shook his head. “She probably wants to hang around Hank more.”

If the face of the telepath was anything to go by, it wasn’t normal for her to do such thing. Actually, Erik himself had hard time believing the reason Xavier evoked since she had spent most part of the last week training in the sports room with him and then outside encouraging him when he curved the trajectory of bullets with his power and. Oh. Holy shit.

“Yes.” Erik said abruptly, cutting whatever Charles was saying.

Charles whole face lit up and smiled broadly. “Really? I haven’t even told you what it was about yet!”

“I’m sure it’s absolutely fascinating. Charles, we should go right now, no time to lose,” Erik sat up gracefully and grabbed Charles by the arm, conjuring the man to hurry the fuck up. “Let’s pack a bag and go.”

Withdrawing his arm, Charles took a step away from Erik and shoot him a questioning glance, but thankfully continued walking. “Very well. I shall meet you in the garage in thirty minutes. Pack for six days, we will need to stop to rest before arriving.”

Erik nodded fervently and they parted ways.

Packing, for Erik, took literally no time. He only had to grab the bag containing everything he owned because he didn’t bother taking it anything out. He was practical like that.

Briefly, he contemplated staying tactically in his room - not hiding from Raven, shut up - until it was time to meet Charles. He contemplated it for twenty-three minutes before casting it aside because no human, or mutant for that matter, could make Erik do anything. Ever. He was fearless. He stepped out of the room proudly and headed for the garage. It was a question of efficiency that he turned around when he saw a blue form in distance and took the long way to the car. It would disrespectful to Charles if he arrived late to their rendezvous and Erik took punctuality to heart.

Charles, on the other hand, didn’t seem to take it seriously at all. He arrived with Raven and Erik was unnerved because he was two minutes late.

“See, there is no need to feel guilty about abandoning me. Erik accepted to come with me.” Charles grinned at his sister, oblivious to the squint of her eyes when saw Erik.

“Oh, I don’t know. I _do_ feel bad about it. Maybe I should come too.”

“Nonsense! You don’t have to endure your old-fart of a brother for my sake. Go on, have fun while I’m away, leave a few walls standing.” Charles peeked a kiss on her cheek and waved at her. Whatever retort she had died in her lips when she saw Erik swiftly tactically retreating to the car and starting up the car. She pursed her lips and glared pointedly at him. Erik would have felt bad if he hadn’t deemed remorse a useless feeling, because it wasn’t Raven’s fault he was allergic to human attachment and prevented it when he could.

“Where to?” Erik asked as he sped up out of the garage and Raven’s sight.

“Detroit.” Charles answered as he fumbled with the buttons on the radio.

“Taking me to the end of the world, I see.” Erik said with a twist of his lips dangerously close to a smile. Charles chuckled and finally decided on a station. _Chandelier_ was on and much to Erik’s distress, Charles began to sing along with Sia. He had his eyes closed and the window open, air stream blowing his hair as he sang, if one could call the scream of a dying seal singing. When the song ended, Erik thought that was it, but no, he maimed Lana Del Rey's _Born To Die_ as well and god knows she needn’t his help, but Charles was generous like that except when it came to Erik’s ears.

He meant it as a joke when he talked about the end of the world, not a challenge.

Erik checked his watch. Only four hours before they stopped for the night. He could do it. He survived Shaw, he could survive this.

He could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news! Chapter 13 is almost done. Who would have thought I could actually do something other than staring at walls and giggling at my own jokes?


	10. Of Monsters and Tea

Much to Erik’s delight, Charles actually stopped singing after a while. Sure, it hadn’t come anything near soon enough, but at the moment he was appreciating small mercies. Who knows how long it would take the blue-eyed moron to recharge his batteries and start damaging his eardrums. Erik needed it, otherwise he would have ripped it off after the five first songs. For the moment, Charles settled on chatting. Erik actually enjoyed listening to Charles when he wasn’t actively scarring him. 

“Splendid.” Erik said, staring at the road. “Tell me, are you one of those who believes dreams are glimpses from alternate universes?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Erik. Dreaming is merely how our brain deals with our past and present, including various ways of coping. I should know.” He added with a sly grin, “I’m a mind reader.”

Erik snorted, eyes not leaving the road to glance at the man seated at his side. “So you say. Tell me, then, what makes you believe in the String Theory?”

Charles shrugged. “I was always a fan of Einstein. I even had a picture of him at my bedside table when I was a kid. No, don’t give me that face, it’s not a fanboy thing. I truly never was wholly convinced by the Loop Quantum Gravity theory.”

“Their results did match the Black Hole Entropy predicted by Bekenstein.”

“Indeed.” Charles nodded ceremoniously. “Though their picture of black holes isn’t the usual one. The String Theory also made accurate predictions of special black holes, systematic with the Bekenstein-Hawking theories. Really, they are rather even on that side. At this point it’s difficult to say who is right since practical experiment are clearly out of question. I must say, I didn’t take you for a fervent defender of the Loop Quantum Gravity theory.”

“I’m not. I just wanted to see what you had to say on the matter.” Erik turned his face to give a rare rapid upside twist of his lips.

Charles laughed lightly. “So you would.”

They argued over physic theories and the merits of supposedly ground-breaking discoveries in the field. Charles, surprisingly, was the vicious one when it came to destroying experiments he found unworthy of a scientist’s time or corrupt. Normally, Erik was always the one who bled the victim dry, even if only in conversation. But Charles was a spitfire.

By eight o’clock, they were eating in a bar near the seedy motel they would sleep in for the night.

“I didn’t expect you to pick an establishment like this.” Erik said casually in the stairs as they made their way to their shared room.

“I did it for the same reasons you do, my friend. Technology nowadays makes it awfully easy to follow people when the mind is into it.” Charles answered quietly as he opened the door with the key.

Erik hummed, depositing his bag on his bed and efficiently undressed. “Here I thought you were a pacifist.”

“Yes, a pacifist, not a fool. I recognise danger when I see it, and the CIA certainly, for all their pretended efforts, are not, actually, on our side.” Charles called from the bathroom before starting the shower. 

A few minutes passed before Charles emerged from the shower, with nothing but a small towel around his hips. Erik didn’t advert his gaze, but merely continued to speak as Charles stood naked before him, looking for his pyjamas in the suitcase he brought. If he had wanted privacy, he should have stayed in the fucking bathroom.

“Then why are we going there?” Erik said flatly as he watched the muscles of Charles’ back flex.

“They can be of use. We have allies in there, and they are the ones who made the call.” Charles turned to face Erik, chest still bare, but Erik only looked at him dead in the eye. He sat on the bed swiftly, making the mattress rebound, but he paid no attention to it, simply laying down, head resting on the pillow. “Tomorrow is going to be an excruciatingly long day, and you will need to keep that temper of yours under control. Keep in mind we are there to help our fellow mutants.” He rubbed his temples roughly with his eyes closed. “I’m terribly sorry, but I must sleep. Tomorrow will be draining for me and I need to be at my utmost.”

Erik imitated Charles and laid down in his boxers and shirt, after subtly hiding his Eickhorn A. C. K, Stoßie for the intimate, under his pillow where his hand was casually lying. He waited until Charles was deep into slumber before getting up and putting on his trousers and boots. Erik had wanted to play it cool whilst Charles was watching, not wanting him to see the discomfort and touch of paranoia, but the truth was that it was nearly impossible for Erik to sleep without his clothes on, a knife in his hand, his boots on with a foot on the floor and a clear view of all the exits, ready in case he needed to escape. He opened the blind carefully, and watched the streets for a couple of minutes. Once he was as safe as he could ever be, he closed them silently and went to bed for a few hours of sleep.


	11. Born Of Frustration

The next morning, Erik went out to fetch coffee, an earl gray and some muffins. When he came back, Charles was still snoring softly. Because he knew tea was less disgusting when hot, he woke him up by poking at him with a stick.

“Nsfkgjhj,” came out of a disgruntled Charles. He snapped his eyes open, pushed up his upper body with his elbows, looking mildly on a defensive pose, took a look at the room before settling on Erik, laid down again with his back to him and started snoring again.

Erik sighed. Charles was such an easy prey in the morning. He poked at him with a stick again.

“Five more minutes.” Charles mumbled.

“Charles,” Erik said warningly.

“Go to bed, Erik. It’s still dark outside.”

“I brought you tea.”

“Mm.” After a beat, “Milk?” he asked, still half asleep.

“Just a dash.”

“Sugar?”

“Not even a grain.”

That got his attention and Erik had to bite back another sigh. Never had he thought he would one day have to lower himself to bribe someone with a hot beverage to get them out of their bed. It worked nonetheless. Charles sat up, half of his hair inelegantly stuck to his skull and the other half a wild mess, his bottoms rumpled by an agitated sleep. He took a cautious sip, testing it, and hummed contentedly. As if Erik would lie. About tea.

“Since you woke me up so early, we can take a detour to keep them in the wrong tracks.”

“I woke you at a normal hour.” Erik shot back, not liking the accusation in his tone.

“Erik, it’s 5 AM.” Charles said bitterly.

Erik didn’t see a contradiction here. Charles exhaled loudly, accepting his caustic fate, packed and dressed in no time. It was 5:20 when they got in the car and headed in a different direction. Charles napped and Erik rejoiced at the silence. He loved driving for hours, destination in mind. There was a sense of accomplishment each time; either he was going to kill someone soon, or he just had and was on the run. Contentment flowed his veins regardless of the situation. If there was peace, Erik found it in the lulling pace of the car, between a previous location and the next, enveloped inside the protection of steel.

By 8 o’clock, Charles emerged from sleep, looking immensely less sour. Erik didn’t protest when he asked to drive above the speed limit and get themselves flashed. Afterwards, they headed for the CIA facility at a normal speed and fruitless debates, arriving before noon. They were greeted by a brunette in a pristine pencil skirt and a sharp looking man. Moira MacTaggert, intelligence agent, area of expertise in genetics, like Charles, human and mutant-friendly, with a clever mind and cleverer ways of working. The man was Armando Muñoz, field agent currently working with Moira as her bodyguard and partner, thanks to a few mental inputs by Charles in their superiors, mutant with the ability to change his body to survive, goes by the nickname of Darwin, also an ally. If Charles hadn’t supplied him with information while they were walking in the facility, there was no way Erik would have known about their allies. Without dripping blood, of course, but then they wouldn’t be their allies after, would they? All of them acted as if they hadn’t seen them, or even know they were around. It was the best way to keep their covers and work unsuspiciously from the inside. Moira was the only one without cover since she was the liaison between Charles and the agency. When they needed something from him, she was the one who contacted Charles by many intermittents so no one would ever discover the estate. Moira herself had been there a few times, but each time she left, Charles erased the memories of the location, with her consent, so she would never be able to sell them out. She was a quiet woman who spoke only if she had something to say, which Erik could come to appreciate.

William Stryker was on the top of the hierarchy of the CIA. He was the kind of man who could find people like Shaw and kill them, save the poor bastards under his control, end wars before they even started, bring the world closer to peace and would do nothing in his power to do so. He was one of the reasons Erik didn’t see fit to trust the authorities, or mankind, for that matter. Yet he had to spend a hundred and seventy-two minutes of his life listening to him explain Charles how the agency was doing its best to help mutants but was unable to do so.

“You must understand why we can’t do anything. People are the problem.” Stryker said, face stoic and hands folded neatly on the table. There were three men on his left and the Director John McCone and another two men on the right. Erik knew at least one of them was an extremely well-trained agent and another was a mutant.

“Yes.” Charles agreed, nodding slightly, looking blankly at Stryker. “The more I hear you talk, the more I think you are right.” Charles smiled politely and got up. Erik had to fight to keep his face emotionless as he followed him to the car.

_Moira told me about a mutant they met in Denver who needs our help_. Charles informed him. _What do you think about small detour to Colorado?_

Erik ripped off the tracker under the car and slid in at the same time as Charles and scowled. _As long as I’m the one driving._

The same evening, Erik and Charles were in a bar after a long drive, each with a glass of scotch. Even though they had driven, and by they Erik meant himself, they were still far from their destination. No way Erik would trust a nutcrack like Charles to drive a car. He had lived in a country where people drove on the wrong side of the road for too long.

Charles was currently silent, drinking his beverage and winking at the waitress. Earlier, Erik had  had the misfortune to hear one of the famous pickup lines Raven laughed about. The worst was that the girl had seemed genuinely interested. Erik had had no other choice but to take Charles away from her, the creature being too drunk to realise what she was doing. Erik was saving her from the humiliation and self-loathing which usually follow when you have fallen for such bad flirting.

Once Charles was done making a fool of himself, he started sharing information he took from CIA agents’ they encountered that day, implanting the impressions the agents had directly into Erik’s brain.

It reminded him that they definitely needed to talk about his telepathic abilities because so far it was incredible. Emma never showed that kind of power and she was good. She mastered the art of illusions and could read people’s thoughts quite well when she was concentrating, even without touching, but this, this was simply mind-blowing, pun intended. Vaguely, Erik wondered how strong Charles was, how far he could go. His gift seemed limitless, though the man didn’t look threatening. Innocence could be the best disguise, specially with that sort of power. Nobody would suspect a man with elbow patches and tweed jackets. Maybe Charles’ lack of fashion sense was in reality a clever disguise. If that was the case, Erik had to tip his hat at him because he was doing a wonderful job.

Charles narrowed his eyes at Erik.

Okay, not a disguise.

Erik coughed and pointed at the door with his thumb. It was past midnight and they needed to rest before taking the road the next morning. Charles pursed his lips but thankfully didn’t comment and followed Erik out.


	12. To and Fro

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Charles was a dirty little liar. Well, that he was good at pretending, that is. Damn telepaths and their ability to ease into a fictitious trust. For all Erik clung to suspicion, it hadn’t occurred to him that he would be betrayed by Xavier. Those deceptive big blue eyes got him and he had no one to blame except himself, and he intended to make himself pay dearly. Stupid fool that he was. It wasn’t as if he had sworn to be true to Erik, he knew he was exaggerating here, but treason was like a stab in the back. He knew how it felt and the comparison was accurate.

Charles was fast asleep, exhausted, drained to the last drop by the previous day’s activities. It was probably why his precious cover blew up since manipulating his appearance was laborious work.

He woke up to Erik’s boot knife pressed against his throat.

 _What the bloody hell?_ Charles shouted, his grip in his mind had no kindness or finesse as it previously had. Charles wasn’t being accommodating, rather forcing his way into Erik’s brain with such roughness he wanted to clench his hand in his hair and pull back but was unable to do so. He tried removing his hands, wiggling his toes, take a deep breath. Nothing. With a terrifying coolness, he realised he couldn’t move at all. Charles had taken control of his body.

Erik, at Charles’ command, stepped away from the bed and floated the boot knife to Charles’ mattress. The other man rose as well, facing him with a strange and yet familiar face. _Du Hurensohn! Lügner!_

Raising his eyebrows, Charles pushed further, looking for an explanation in Erik’s memories. Never had he felt more raped than by the unwanted touch of the only part of him that all these years had stayed truly _his_. Erik was so angry he was seeing red. Now he understood why Raven had been so apprehensive and adverse to Charles’ mutation. He, on the other hand, was disgusted.

Once Charles found the reason of Erik’s outburst, he gasped and retreated from his mind. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

Laughing humorlessly, Erik grabbed his coat and bag before exiting the door with a loud bang. Good thing he was always prepared to be on the run. For the next few hours, he wandered about the streets, kicking innocent garbage and bending unsuspecting lamp posts. Once he calmed down, he made his way back to the hotel.

“Grab your things, it’s time to go.” Erik announced, one foot on the room. Charles’ mouth was hanging open, eyes comically large. He knew better than speak to him right now, so he merely obeyed and followed Erik in the car. The following hours were spent in deathlike silence, only interrupted once when Charles proposed stopping to grab lunch and Erik threw a cereal bar in his lap. Years could have passed and Erik wouldn’t have known the difference. The sole reason he had come back, he told himself, was that he was supposed to stay with Charles until the month ended and he was free to go.

Fidgeting more than before, Charles blurted “I’m sorry I possessed you.” When Erik continued to ignore him, he went on. “Your instinct is to attack when you are cornered. Mine is defense.” As if to prove his point, he crossed his arms and draw them close to his chest.

Erik turned in time to see Charles bleakly looking at him. He diverted his gaze immediately. “You took me off guard. I don’t respond well to violence when I wake up. I’m sure even you can understand that.”

He pressed his lips and didn’t respond for the next minutes, then, very low, he said. “I wouldn’t have actually hurt you, you know.”

“I know that now! At the moment, I wasn’t exactly in a position to make such assumptions.”

Charles sighed loudly and Erik saw him rub his temple in the corner of his eye. At least he dropped the mask. “Are you going to tell me why you have been lying to me - to all of us - or do I have to keep guessing?” Erik said, surprising them both by opening his mouth. Damn his curiosity.

“It’s just. I’m not taken seriously. In Oxford or in Harvard, people used to mock or stay away from me, or both, because of my young age. They thought I was, and still am, an inexperienced, naive, know-it-all fool. They had no respect and I need it to run the estate and help other mutants.”

“Of course you did it by pure cheer generosity for the community. Not because you wanted to enjoy the perks of adulthood.”

“Why can’t it be both? And by the way, I’m actually nineteen. Looks are deceptive.” Charles shot him a look and Erik snorted. Didn’t he know the last part.

Rationally, Erik knew he had no logical explanation to be this mad at Charles for lying to him. Everybody lied. It was simply a human trait and Charles wasn’t above anyone else. He was the last person who should call him out on that, after all he had built a career on deceiving people and had been on the other end as well without ever holding grudges. It was a fair fight, the one who hid his intentions the best won. So why had it stung? Surely it wouldn’t be because he thought he had been befriending an adult and suddenly discovered it could be a child? What difference did it make?The betrayal wasn’t even unanticipated per say, no - he was too smart for that.

It hurt all the same.

He should have known better, should have known that Erik wouldn’t have judged the book by its cover. Maybe what really hurt was realising that the complicity, the closeness and understanding had been one sided.

Another half-hour passed noiselessly. Some of the heavy air had been washed out but the atmosphere was still grim. They were far from okay.

They arrived in Denver at night. It was far too late to go looking for the mutant, so they entered the first restaurant they could find. Dinner, like the rest of the day, was a silent affair. Charles, despite skipping lunch, was pushing around his food without appetite. Erik couldn’t blame him, if he hadn’t know what starving was like, he would have been doing the same. Being what it was, he did know, so he ate everything in his plate. You never know when you might see food again.

This time, when they checked in at the hotel, Charles asked for two separate rooms.

 


	13. Slackjawed

Sean Cassidy was disappointingly easy to find. It took the morning to find a lead and three quarters of the afternoon to pin down the next location he would be seen in. Drug dealers were so predictable it was shameful to the police they weren’t all behind bars. It showed their competence. Or lack of thereof. There might be a correlation between the eagerness of the people they questioned - almost constantly the right people - pouring information and the telepath right next to him, whom Erik tried to ignore. He wasn’t over Charles’ little power display even though he had profusely apologised, which had better be as honest as it sounded. He knew the fact that he had slightly overreacted had not helped the cause, but he wouldn’t go as far as to say it was partly his fault. Other matters were at hand that needed his focus.

Regardless of personal trivia, Charles and Erik made their way to the address given by a hairy-eared man who seemed only too keen to give Sean’s location. He knew he would be there by nightfall, but was unable to give a specific hour. That’s how they ended up waiting for forty-five minutes in a palpable tension. That is, until they heard the scream of a dying koala.

“The fuck,” Erik startled, moving towards the sound. It came from a pale ginger standing under a tree. The teenager had a guitar in his hands, which he was torturing judging by the sounds it made. It only got worse when he chimed in with his personal wounding wail. Erik flinched away, covering his ears to protect them - what had he done to be a victim of Charles and the stranger’s distressing attempts at singing? - but he could still pick up a few lines of _All Of Me_.

The guy was fucking serenading.

Dear _Lord_.

Erik was about to knock him out when Charles put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Erik jerked away, as burnt by the touch.

“It’s him,” Charles said. Erik scowled. Just his fucking luck.

“Sean Cassidy,” he called.

“Hush man!” Sean replied, gesturing at Erik wildly to lower the volume. As if. No one could tell Erik Lehnsherr, the Master of Magnetism, Killer of the Killers, to quiet down. Or anything else. He would show this little bastard the cost of such affront. They would see if he would still be this insolent hanging from a lamp street by a foot.

“We’re here on Moira’s behalf,” Charles cut in, stepping in front of him. Erik snarled.

At the blank look on Sean’s face, Charles asked, “Do you know Armando?” Still nothing. “Darwin?”

That lit up the bulb in Sean’s otherwise empty brain. Fucking idiotic teenagers. “Yeah! I know him. He’s a cool dude. I’m Banshee.”, he said proudly and Erik rolled his eyes. He certainly made him want to scream in horror.

“Pleased to meet you, I’m Charles.” He extended a hand, which Sean slapped and fist bumped. God Almighty. Without missing a beat, he added, “And this is Erik. We’re because you have a, erm, problem?”

“Dude, don’t tell me about it. Nasty shit, I’m totally fucked.” Sean whined. And some nasty shit it was. Crazy drug related shit. Sean had been dealing a new powder called Purple Nipples, for obvious reasons you discovered after taking it, which became hyper popular thanks to Sean’s connections. Sadly, it had a little unwelcome side-effect. It activated, briefly, a dormant mutation that would never have been woken. It came from a recessive single allele, Charles explained later. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the mutations weren’t so disastrous - a woman had woken up hairless to discover spider nests under her skull, because she had the power to mother spiders. Another woman had her skin turned into a goo bubbling jello with a unbreathable odor. A man had the power of super-acid-diarrhea that melted the bathrooms six floors down. A girl turned people purple every time she was upset and spat bugs. Exquisite stuff, all of it. Thank god there were never supposed to be active. Understandably, Sean was wanted by the police and even less nice people. He would need a place to lay low, which Charles promptly offered. What was it with his man and his strays? What did he want, their allegiance to start an army? No freaking chance he was getting it from Erik, anyway.

Sean took the next flight to New York. He would be picked up by Moira and Darwin when he got there to be escorted to the mansion. He had with him the itinerary to get there the subtlest way. That left Charles and Erik to drive back the car.

They slept the night in Denver and the following day, Erik drove twenty hours straight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapters will be Charles-centred.


End file.
